


The Last of the Real Ones

by Killtheselights, TheLadyoftheHouse



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Catholic Guilt, Catholic School, Detention, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Han Solo Memorial Scholarship, Jesuits are just Jedis for Jesus, Mentions of Cancer, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Private School, Reylo - Freeform, Senior Ben, Sophomore Rey, Swearing, Swimming, Swimming Pools, Tarot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 17:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20510483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killtheselights/pseuds/Killtheselights, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyoftheHouse/pseuds/TheLadyoftheHouse
Summary: Ben Solo is a star student. Head of the student government, goalie on the hockey team, son of a senator; everyone at Resistance Academy knows him...or at least, they know the rumors about him.Rey Johnson is a transfer student whose only claim to fame is that she won a full-ride to Resistance Academy. No one knows her. No one cares to. She is a nobody, entirely invisible.Until she slams Ben Solo's head into a locker and their wildly different worlds collide. As they find themselves thrown into detention together, Ben and Rey find understanding and acceptance in one another and the strange forces that are drawing them together.





	1. The Hanged Man - Part 1

_ The Hanged Man. Sacrifice. Release. Martyrdom. _ _ Though he is swinging upside down, the serenity of his expression seems to say that he is doing this of his own free will. _ _ The Hanged Man _ _ understands that his position is a sacrifice that he needed to make in order to progress forward - whether as repentance for past wrongdoings, or a calculated step backward to recalculate his path onward. _

Ben had been staring blankly at the wall below the chalkboard for what felt like hours when he was jolted back into reality by an object striking the back of his sore head. He groggily turned toward the culprit, who was sitting several rows behind him on the opposite side of the empty classroom, her feet on the desk.

She arched a disdainful eyebrow. 

_ What’re you gonna do about it? _ her expression said silently. 

_ Come on, punk, _ it said. _ Make my fucking day. _

Glaring at the bratty underclassman, he bent his torso and plucked the offending paper ball off the ground. He uncrumpled it.

It said in hasty scrawl: “You’re a fucking snake, Solo. Eat shit.” Beneath the missive, she had drawn a cartoon snake with angry eyes and the long scar that took a place of prominence on his face.

His temper flaring, he balled the piece of paper up and turned abruptly back to Rey.

"Entschuldigung, Herr Solo," a bored voice intoned from the front of the room. "Was machtst du da?"

Ben's arm froze before he could lift it over his shoulder and hurl the note back at Rey. He hurriedly tucked his hand back on his lap. Had the German teacher's eyes even moved from her computer screen?

"Es tut mir leid, Frau Holdo," he muttered, casting a withering glare back at Rey as he slumped back onto his desk.

Rey flipped him a double bird and smirked triumphantly.

He snarled, and turned his back to her once more. He glanced up at the clock.

The eternity that had passed in detention had so far only been about twenty minutes.

And it was all her fucking fault.

Ben tried to find a reason to be nice to this girl.

The best he had devised was "obligation," but that was when he was lucky enough to not have to spend more than a few minutes with her.

Now obligation wasn't gonna cut it.

His mother had introduced them on the first day of school, when he was to present a certificate to the girl during the new school year assembly to signify the scholarship she had been awarded and welcome her to the Resistance Academy.

"Ben," Leia had said, "This is Rey. Rey, if you need help getting around the school, Ben's a great help."

And with a motherly pat on the shoulder, Leia disappeared to talk to the headmaster about the impending ceremony.

Ben had no intention of being helpful. He just wanted to get through the year, frictionless as possible. And then he had to stand beside his mother and pose for photos with this twerp. 

It wasn’t fair, but he hadn’t liked her off the bat.

And she had let the whole school know the feeling was mutual.

It was the end of the day on Friday. He was looking forward to the weekend, chatting with Hux as the ginger boy had loaded books into his bookbag, when out of nowhere the little runt had shoved him against the locker doors, demanding answers, her fist balled in the front of his white oxford shirt.

“You think it’s funny to talk shit about me behind my back?” she had snarled with all the menace of a pissed off kitten.

Even if he had the foggiest clue what she meant, the sudden impact of his head against the metal doors was not helping his memory.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he growled.

Around them, students had stopped their packing and chatter to watch. Armitage had stood, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning maliciously.

She pushed against Ben again, her rough little knuckles digging into his collarbone. 

“You think you have a right to judge me just because you’re a basket case? Fuck you, Solo.”

Had he looked any closer at her flashing eyes, he would have noticed the faintest sheen of tears clouding them over.

Instead, his attention was grabbed by Armie Hux, who scoffed a vicious little laugh. 

"What did you do to piss off your little girlfriend, Benny-boy?"

Armie wasn't the only one watching them. He felt the color rising in his cheeks as he grew suddenly aware of all the eyes on him. He was confused and angry and his pride was about as bruised as the back of his head was bound to be.

So he snapped.

"I don't know what you're on about, you little psycho," he snarled, grabbing her small wrists in his large palms. "But you better get your fucking hands off of me!"

Her eyes bulged wide and furious and she leapt up at him with a shriek. The top of her head collided with his chin as she struggled to free herself from his grip.

He roared with the dual pain of his jaw colliding with the smaller girl's forehead and the force of head again colliding with the lockers. His teeth rattled and his head throbbed. He swore loud enough to shake the whole school, but he did not release her.

His pulse flooded his head. He was sure that his peers had reacted, perhaps more favorably toward the bratty freshman who attacked him, but he couldn't hear them over the pounding in his ears.

"You _ bitch _!" he panted.

She snarled viciously and twisted her arms, anything to try to break his iron grasp on her wrists. 

"Come on, fucker," she hissed, writhing and wriggling like an eel. "You wanna go again? Huh? You want another one? I can do this all fucking day. "

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he demanded, nails digging into her wrists. "I haven't said a fucking word to you!"

He yanked her arms again, his strength overpowering hers.

"But you sure had plenty to say to your little cronies and Brother Luke, right?" she spat. "Couldn't wait to go off on the fucking charity case, could you?"

She was breathing hard, her face turning pink, and it looked like she was about to cry. 

"Well you don't get to fucking judge me. No one does!" she screamed. 

She pulled down hard on her arms, and he could hear the sleeve of her oversized sweater rip.

He released her hands in shock.

"Brother Luke? What, were listening to me in his office, you creep?" he spat back at her. He hoped the insult masked his horror at the notion that she had heard his conversation, and the slowly dawning revelation that that particular office visit was the cause of all of this.

She snatched her hands back with a huff, shoving the stretched out sleeves up wiry arms already ringed with bruises. Her fists were up by her face in a practiced posture. A far-back part of his brain wondered if she had ever taken karate lessons.

"I wasn't listening in, but I sure as fuck heard enough about me. About my parents leaving me behind like garbage. What gives you the fucking _ right _ to talk about me, Solo!"

Panic seized him, and it took every ounce of his self control not to seize her before he said something truly humiliating, something like the truth.

He crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture meant to portray a control he did not feel.

"Why would anyone want to talk about a freak like you?"

She glared thunderously back up at him and he wondered how someone so small could be full of so much rage? 

"Fuck you, Solo."

She swung wide, probably aiming for his face.

His addled brain somehow did not affect his reflexes, and his raised a hand to block her; he wasn't the best goalie in the county for nothing. 

However, Rey was still blazing mad, and he knew he had to prepare for her to retaliate. Her fist caught in one hand, he turned her around, twisting her arm behind her back.

"Are we done?" he growled into her ear. 

“_ ENOUGH _!” 

Every head in the hallway whipped around to the source of the shout. Brother Luke was storming through the throng of quickly dispersing teenage bodies, his face red with uncharacteristic fury over his silvering beard. His prayer beads clacked ominously from the rope around his waist. 

“Solo, Johnson, my office,” he growled.

Certain that he wasn’t going to be hit again, much less ever be permitted to see the light of day, he was so grounded, Ben released Rey, to a chorus of disappointed groans and titters of glee from his spectating peers.

"Good luck, Benny-boy," Armie sing-songed as he slammed his locker shut and clicked the lock in place. "I'll see you Monday if you survive the weekend."

Rey snapped her teeth at the ginger and he retreated quickly. She pulled her sleeves down again, hiding her hands in the excessive length of wool and stared down at Brother Luke’s sandals. If she was trying to go for the contrite look, she’d have to try harder than that to crack the old man’s thick burlap shell.

Ben sighed, shouldered his backpack, and strode off in the direction of Brother Luke's too familiar office, but not before muttering a "Thanks, you little witch" under his breath.

She stuck her tongue out at him and ran to catch up with the longer strides of the Jesuit.

After Ben and the sophomore spent several furtive minutes in the headmaster's office trying to explain how neither was at fault for a fight they couldn't or wouldn't properly explain, Brother Luke had sentenced them each to a week of detention, effective that day.

That meant a week that Ben would miss student gov meetings and hockey workouts, which meant he'd have to sit out the first game of the season, and all this would probably somehow negatively impact his college applications, he just knew it.

This one fuck up could ruin his chances of getting out of this town, getting away from Resistance Academy, from his family, from anyone who would know who he is or where he came from...

All because of that little brat.

He wished she was just another quiet, brainy bookworm-type. She would be meek and boring and easy to ignore this way. She seemed hellbent on challenging him and making his life worse at every turn. And for that, he hated her already.

Rey groaned quietly from the back of the room, a hollow thunk indicating that she had dropped her head to her desk melodramatically.

Ben, who had traced and retraced the grouting on the concrete walls so many times he was mentally adding Pac-Man sounds as his eyes glazed over, jolted at the sound behind him. He turned to glare at the girl.

One sweater-clad arm was rifling quietly through her ratty old backpack, likely trying not to alert Frau Holdo to her activities. He watched a small bundle disappear up the overlarge sleeve of her sweater before she returned her hand to her lap. She straightened in her seat, keeping her eyes trained downwards.

He squinted. Was that a phone?

Oh, he would love nothing more than to rat her out. He craned his neck to see that Frau Holdo was still busy on her laptop. He'd need to get her attention somehow.

Rey’s hands moved silently and subtly in her lap and then into the opening of her desk. A soft flash of color caught the fluorescent light.

He heard a shuffling clicking sound. For a moment, he thought it could be her nails against the touch screen, but he craned his neck to see her desk.

"Augen nach vorne, Herr Solo," Holdo muttered, flipping through paperwork on her desk. Eyes forward, she told him.

How did she not see what's happening?

"Frau Holdo, Rey has her—"

"Bitte, sei ruhig," Holdo chastened him, her eyes meeting his as she softly placed a finger on her lips.

He scowled, but she did not stop watching him until he turned around to face the wall again.

He could practically hear Rey smirking behind him. 

After a while, the gentle rhythmic _ thwip thwip thwip _ of whatever she was messing around with in her desk sank into the stillness of the room like the ticking of a metronome. It was...oddly relaxing. Meditative, even.

The silence was broken by the clacking of heeled shoes and the sound of a low voice from the hallway, another teacher. Ben could hear Frau Holdo sliding her chair back and walking to the doorway, where she soon began to engage in an animated conversation with her colleague just outside the classroom. 

The two women laughing loudly from the hall made Ben bold. He turned to face Rey directly.

Her eyes darted up to catch his stare and hold it, a challenge.

He wrapped his arm around the back of his chair and pivoted, casting the full weight of his glare on her.

“Can I help you?” she muttered sarcastically, her eyes returning to her lap.

"Well, you're the reason I'm stuck here, so I'm not sure how much more you can help," he hissed.

“Yeah, well I’m stuck here too, in case you haven’t noticed, so it’s not like I did myself any favors either.”

"Oh, boo hoo, poor little scholarship girl picks a fight and suffers the consequences."

He leaned in closer trying to see her hands. Was she...shuffling cards?

“I wouldn’t have been picking fights if you’d just kept your mouth shut about me,” she growled. “I worked damn hard for that scholarship, thank you very much. I don’t need some spoiled rich boy who’s never worked a day in his life judging me for that.”

"For someone who is so angry about being judged, you're fairly comfortable flinging judgement around," he scoffed. "Don't forget that scholarship was bought in blood."

“Oooh, melodramatic, aren’t we?”

"You're the recipient of the Han Solo memorial scholarship," he said, his glare harsh on her. "To earn that, Han Solo had to die."

Rey’s jaw clenched and she swallowed. 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she mumbled, most of the bite had left her voice. “But it’s not _ my _ fault.”

He chewed on his lip, considering letting it drop, but that was never his way.

"Yeah, well, this is.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

“I don’t know, I think a solid headbutt can do you good. Knock things into perspective. I’m happy to oblige again if you like.”

"What, so you like detention?" He rolled his own eyes. "If you want attention so badly, pick a fight with Armie next time. He loves the spotlight almost as much as you do."

“He’s next on my list,” she smirked. “He could definitely use a recalibration.”

"Go ahead, pick more fights," he said, waving a dismissive hand and turning around to face the front of the room. "I'm glad you like it in here, but I have better things to do with my afternoons."

“Well some of us can’t afford extracurriculars.”

She looked from her lap at the back of his head. She wondered if he was going to have a bump from the lockers. 

“Check your privilege, why don’t you.”

"I'll do that," he huffed. "Once you check your shitty attitude."

"You're a dick."

"And you're going to risk your scholarship if you keep going apeshit on people in the hallway."

He folded his hands nonchalantly behind his head, leaning back in his chair.

“Worried about my future, Solo?” The quiet _ thwip thwip thwip _ returned. “Gonna miss my sunny face in the hallways if I get kicked out?”

"God, why do you assume just because you're obsessed with me that I'm just as obsessed with you?" he said, eyes still locked to the wall in front of him. "I've got better things to think about than some dumb freshman."

“I’m a sophomore, and I’m not obsessed with you. You’re just hard to miss.” She scoffed derisively. “_ Solo won the hockey game, Solo’s class president, Solo’s got a dead dad. _Sounds like you’re the attention whore in this situation, not me.”

"Yup, you got me pegged, kid. I want all that attention. My personal life on display always. My family grief part of the school's culture. Nailed it. Right down to the whore part." He rolled his eyes again, though he knew she couldn't see. "Give me a flipping break."

"Why do you let them talk, then? If you hate it so much." _thwip thwip._"Why not tell them all to fuck off?"

"What, you mean tell off every single person in the school who has ever had an opinion on me?" He turned his head and hazarded a glance back at her. "That's not a luxury I have."

“Why not?”

He shrugged. "It's like you said. I'm Ben Solo. I'm not allowed to be..."

He wasn't sure how to phrase that. He didn't want to be honest with her. 

_ Myself. _

"...the kind of guy who picks fights in the hallway and throw middle fingers at anyone who crosses me. I'm already in enough shit this year."

Whoops, and there was the truth.

He heard the quiet little sounds in her hands stop. 

"What kind of shit?"

"Whatever, it's nothing. Just... college shit."

The stillness in the room started to suffocate.

"...do you...wanna talk about it?" Her voice sounded completely different when it wasn't angry and sarcastic. 

"I mean...it's not like I'm digging for crap to add to the rumor mill. I'm a nobody. No one would even believe me if I did. You've kinda got nothing to lose."

He lowered his hands to his desk, his fingers tapping nervously against the surface.

For once, he didn't want to snap at her, but he wasn't sure he was ready to be honest yet.

Slowly, he turned around to face her, just as Frau Holdo came strolling back.

"Herr Solo," she said testily, pointing to the front of the room.

Out of the corner of his eye when he turned back around, he saw a large, colorful card disappear up Rey's sweater sleeve as her hands returned to her lap. After a while, the quiet metronome filled the room again.

And Ben’s eyes returned to the wall.

_ Wokka-wokka-wokka-wokka… _

He felt the simmering anger cool just in time to hear Frau Holdo snap the lid of her laptop shut.

"Alright, time to go," she said, rising to her feet and scooping her belongings into her bag. "Dr. Ackbar will be the detention monitor on Monday. Schönes Wochenende!"

Rey was up and out of her seat faster than he thought possible. Her old book bag was a blur of graying canvas as it vanished out the door in her wake.

He sauntered to the front door of the classroom, throwing his bag over his shoulder. "Tschüß, Professorin."

"Stay out of trouble, Herr Solo," she called after him, flicking off the light. As he strolled out into the hall, he heard her yell, "And don't make me report back to your mother!"

Ben Solo’s parents were too busy to escort their son to school beyond the first day of his freshman year, so they hired a driver to take him and pick him up for the whole school year.  
Sophomore year, when he wasn’t brought to school by the hired driver, he often rode in style in one of his dad’s classic cars, the affable Han Solo in the driver’s seat.

Junior year, Han was around for a bit, but Ben was also learning to drive. When he got his license, he started driving himself, in one of his parents’ fancy cars.  
Then he was absent for a while. When he returned, he had a scar from his brow to his collarbone, and he was driven to school by a stranger once more.   
Now, no one saw Ben Solo in fancy cars. They never saw him arrive to school. They never saw him leave. He would just appear and disappear around the proper times.

That was fine to Ben. He preferred the air of mystery.  
He didn’t want people to see the truth.

He slouched off towards the administration offices. The receptionist had long since left, but the door to Brother Luke’s office was open. Ben entered silently, observing the headmaster shuffling some paperwork and flicking off his lamp. Luke glanced up and saw Ben in the doorway. 

“I was just about to come get you.”

Ben shrugged. 

“I was let out early for good behavior.”

“Why do I have a hard time believing that?” Brother Luke asked, scooping up his keys.

“Because I’m a good-for-nothing miscreant, apparently.”

Luke wordlessly pushed past Ben, shoving him out into the hallway and locking the door.

“You and I both know that’s not true. But picking fights with a sophomore, Ben? I don’t know what got into you.”

“_ Her _ hands in _ my _ shirt, if we want to be specific,” Ben said, trailing behind the Jesuit as they strode toward the staff parking lot.

Luke shot him a withering look.

"I didn't start it, really!" Ben said. "I was at my locker when she came up and started shrieking at me."

"Then why did you have her in a vice grip when I came to break it up?" Luke asked with an exaggerated sigh. "Honestly, Ben, she's much smaller than you. If you want to prove yourself a man, you'll have to pick on bigger fish."

"It wasn't like that!"

Ben had once come to school in luxury cars. Now, Ben came to school with his uncle, the headmaster, early in the morning and left long after many of his peers in a busted old Toyota Corolla. Ben opened the front passenger door and slid into the seat, knees practically in his lap..

"I wouldn't pick a fight, and I don't hit girls. She came up to me, started screaming, head-butted me into the locker, and wouldn't calm down until I pinned her arm."

"What was she yelling at you about?"

"I don't know."

It was partially a lie, and Uncle Luke caught it right away.

"What did you do to her, Ben?"

“Nothing,” Ben mumbled, rolling his face to stare out the window. It was a perfect fall afternoon; there would only be a few more left before it would get dark before he left school in the afternoon. Shame he had to waste them in detention. 

Ben was very good at stony silence, but Luke was a master.

Several miles later, Ben murmured, “She overheard us talking.”

“You mean your meltdown in my office today?”

“Isn’t that what you want?” Ben snapped. “Either I’m not talking to you and I’m a sullen nightmare, or I’m opening up to you and you brand it a fucking meltdown! Which is it?”

“Language,” Luke replied calmly, but then he sighed. “You’re right. That’s not fair of me. Thank you for expressing yourself in my office earlier.”

It wasn’t unusual for the president of student government to have meetings with the headmaster, but what few knew was that Ben met with the headmaster several days a week for lunch just so his uncle could check up on him, at the request of his mother.

Ben had chafed at this. He lived with the man now; wasn’t dinner enough quality time? Why did they need to throw in lunches, too?

And today Ben had been brought to his breaking point. The little scholarship rat picking a fight had just been the cherry on top. His head was throbbing, and not only from Rey Johnson’s headbutt.

Luke pulled into a parking spot at his apartment complex. He turned off the ignition, but made no effort to unlock the doors. Ben sat slumped against the window.

“You know, just because someone starts a fight doesn’t mean you have to finish it,” Luke said softly.

Ben sat still for several moments before muttering, “She was airing out my secrets. Everything I said. She was going to expose me.”

“Did that mean you had to fight her?”

“It wasn’t. A _fight. _I had to stop her from bashing my head in._”_

Luke nodded to himself then unlocked the car.

“You know she comes from a rough background. Try to be easy with her.”

Ben scrambled to get out of the vehicle.

“Easy with her?” he scoffed. “Right. Because she’s clearly so helpless. She’s manipulative and violent and—”

“I think you two have a lot to teach each other.”

Ben slammed the car door with exceptional violence.

“Yeah, like how to be a huge psycho and still get everyone’s pity.”

“_ Ben. _ ” 

“Oh, shove it!” Ben shouted. “You’re just obsessed with framing me as a fucking problem.”

“Ben, you’re making a scene.”

Luke was exaggerating, of course. There was no one outside the apartments. Ben continued railing.

“I can’t do anything right by you, or by Mom, or fucking anybody. Fuck, my dad even died to get away from me! Why even try for college when I’m practically a psycho about to—!”

“That’s_ ENOUGH _, Ben!” Luke barked. He gestured towards the building. “Get inside. You’re almost a grown man. We’re not having these public temper tantrums.” 

The older man got close to his nephew and whispered menacingly at him.

“You’re grounded this weekend, for the fight and your outburst. I’ll call your mother after dinner. If you’re lucky, I’m the merciful one.”  
Ben seethed, and stormed off in the direction of Luke’s apartment.

It was going to be another long weekend.

The little nightmare girl would be out of his hair soon, but still.

Graduation could not come soon enough.


	2. Hanged Man - Part 2

Friday wasn’t Rey’s first unpleasant encounter with Resistance Academy’s golden boy; it seemed like every interaction with Ben Solo had ended in their mutually-assured irritation.

And as it happened, they shared a class together.

The first block of the morning was Rey’s “physical elective.” She had thought it sounded pretentious. Just call it gym class and be done with it. But that was private school for you. 

The first week of class, once the bell rang and she edged out of homeroom before the rest of her classmates, she followed the first block on her schedule toward the old gymnasium and locker rooms on the first floor. The hallway smelled like chlorine and old wood, the scent twisting her stomach. 

She hadn’t slept well the night before. Hunger cramps and nightmares had kept her up late into the evening, leaving her bleary-eyed and taciturn the next morning.

If it had been any other class, it might have been tolerable. But this was the physical elective favored most by seniors, especially those on various sports teams. Aquatic Activities, or as it was known colloquially, "water sports."

Rey hadn't known this when she enrolled. She just needed a fitness class for the fall semester, and since she was registering late for her sophomore year, many of the non-swimming electives had already been filled.

Rey wasn't a particularly good swimmer, so the other classes hadn't been appealing anyway, but this one sounded the least intensive, and with a last-minute change, there was one open spot.

She bought a Resistance Academy branded red one-piece swimsuit on her first day, and had wandered into the locker room to change.

She rushed on the pool deck just as roll was being called.

The first thing that struck her tired and somewhat fanciful mind was that there were trees in her way. A veritable forest of tall, half-naked, and decidedly _ male _ seniors loomed in her face. She could barely see around them to where Mr. Fisto was taking attendance. 

“Chavdri?”

A hand raised. “Here.”

“Dand?” Another hand. 

“Dolin?”

“Present.”

“Houz?” Another hand. 

“Hux?”

Rey’s stomach dropped. Perfect. Of all the classes, it had to be his. The student council VP had a nearly permanent sneer on his face and a general disdain for anyone of a different economic or cultural demographic than him. In other words, a grade-A asshole.

“Present,” came the nasally reply. 

This was so not her day. 

“Johnson?”

Rey’s hand went up as far as it could. Her fingertips barely broke the tree line. 

“Here!” she squeaked. 

Mr. Fisto looked up from his clipboard, barely having heard her. “Raymond Johnson?”

She rolled her eyes and shoved her way through the blockade of boys until she stood at the front, her face nearly the color of her swimsuit from embarrassment. 

“Just Rey, actually, Mr. Fisto,” she said, her voice sounding braver than she expected from herself. “With an ‘e.’”

The Ents turned toward her slowly, and there was a chorus of deep, lazy chuckles as they regarded her. 

"Shit," the familiar dark-haired boy who stood closest to her swore under his breath.

Mr. Fisto's eyes went wide.

"Well, Miss Johnson," he began. "You are aware this is an all-boys class, correct?"

She looked around demonstratively. 

“Yeah, I’m kind of picking up on that,” she said. She had no idea where all of this confidence was coming from. She chalked it up to sleep deprivation.

"How did you even get into this class?" Mr. Fisto asked, confused but not cruel.

“I transferred,” she explained. “I didn’t get to pick my classes until late, and this one was open. No one told me they weren’t coed.”

"Well, you're on my roster, so for whatever reason, you were allowed in this class." Mr. Fisto smiled reassuringly at her. "Though I know these boys are all gentlemen and will treat you with all the Resistance Academy virtues" – there was minor guffawing at this which Mr. Fisto chose to ignore – "We'll get you moved into a class with your peers soon. But for today, guys, treat Miss Johnson like a friend. Like a sister. Like a friend's little sister, alright?"

There were several leers thrown back at Rey from boys who clearly weren't particularly kind to friend's little sisters.

Rey straightened her shoulders and cast a weighty look around at her fellow swimmers. 

She recognized a few as their eyes raked over her. The dark-haired boy who had presented her with her scholarship earlier that week was the only one whose expression wasn’t hungry. It was closer to disgusted.

Mr. Fisto took their disinterested murmurs as assent and continued going through the roster. 

"Solo?"

"Yup," the disgusted-looking boy said with a half-hearted wave of his hand. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away from Rey, now at the front of the pack of boys.

She swallowed the sting with a modicum of difficulty. He had given her much the same look on the stage in the auditorium on Monday. 

_ What did I do wrong? _ was her immediate thought, a weak, mewling little thing borne of a long time being rejected. 

She steeled her spine and set her face into a look of determination. 

_ Fine. If he’s gonna be an asshole, that’s his problem. _

The water was alarmingly warm and almost salty as Rey slipped into the shallow end. A volleyball net stretched across the shallow side, the deep end cordoned off. 

She sidled up to Solo after Mr. Fisto put them on the same side of the net. Maybe he was just a grump. Maybe she could chip through that unpleasant expression. 

“So do we actually do any swimming in this class or is it just an extended game of Marco Polo for the rest of the year?” she quipped up at him.

"Why do you think it's all seniors?" he huffed. "If you want to actually swim laps, you take something else."

Her eye couldn’t help but fall on the long, deep scar that cut its way from his eyebrow to his chest. It wasn’t the kind of scarring one usually saw on a teenaged boy from suburbia. It was the kind of wound that came from a war zone. 

She knew she was staring. She turned quickly to face the other team.

"You know how to play volleyball, right, Scholarship?"

She bristled at the nickname. 

“I think I’ve heard of it,” she returned, her voice acidic.

He called over to one of the other boys and caught the beach ball. He tossed it to her.

"Alright, don't let us down."

She steadied herself at the back corner of their side and squared the ball in her hands. It was way lighter than any ball she was used to playing volleyball with. She would honestly be shocked if it made it over the net. 

With a yelp, she jumped up and spiked the beach ball...directly into the back of Ben Solo’s head.

The chorus of laughter seemed to hurt Ben's pride more than any beach ball, no matter how well-aimed it was. He shot his most venomous glare at the girl.

She returned his look with a raised eyebrow, shoving down the instinctual realization that she had fucked _ way _ up.

He gritted his teeth. 

"I thought," he said tersely, picking the ball up out of the water. "You said you could_ play _."

She shrugged. 

“My mistake,” she said dispassionately.

He glared at her, this time looking at her unflinchingly. She was slight enough that he could probably knock her over just by coughing on her, yet that serve kind of stung. 

"Don't make it again." He shot her another dark look before turning around.

“Don’t put your head in the way of my serve,” she muttered. 

Her next spike sailed slowly over the net. She couldn’t stifle her triumphant little smile as he flinched.

The game carried on with no incident for some time, with Rey being relegated to the back row where Ben could easily jump and deflect most of the shots heading towards her. He seemed to channel his anger and frustration into every volley, leaping forward and diving into the water to keep the ball from hitting the surface.

Rey wasn’t proud of how into the game she got. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. 

She almost forgot about how tired she was, yelling when her teammates were slacking, cheering when they were victorious. She was kind of amazed to find that she was actually having fun. 

When Mr. Fisto blew the whistle, she was the last one out of the pool, shivering and teeth chattering, but grinning like an idiot. 

It lightened her steps all the way back to the locker room. Until she realized that she was going to have to pass through an entire locker room full of boys to get back to her stall.

A shouting match had erupted about who was most excited to get naked in front of the other guys when Ben stepped out from his stall, towel-drying his hair. He stopped and wrapped the towel around his waist when he noticed the girl staring at him.

"What do you want?" he growled.

“To get back to my stall and get changed, thanks,” she chattered. Her skinny arms were crossed tightly over her chest, goosebumps erupting over every inch of her.

He chuckled coldly. 

"Well, what's stopping you?" He gestured down the center aisle of shouting, chattering seniors as if he were pointing to a gentle garden path. "Go ahead."

She straightened her back, dropped her arms, and walked on through the maelstrom, her chin high and expression as imperious as a queen’s. 

Rey kept her eyes resolutely forward, doing her best to ignore the moments of teenaged nudity and the catcalls.

She could feel his eyes following her all the way to her stall. Almost as if he was watching her back… 

She shook off the thought with a scoff. _ More like waiting for me to stumble so he can strike. _

She didn’t understand why, but he seemed to hate her. If the glares and snarls were anything to go on. He seemed just shy of being pushed over the edge toward a fight. 

She wondered if this was going to become a habit with Ben Solo. 

  


Dr. Ackbar had them scrubbing lab tables on Monday afternoon. The biology lab smelled like puke and formaldehyde. The juniors were doing frog dissections. Apparently, Snap Wexley had fainted into a puddle of his own barf during his fifth-period dissection and got sent home for the rest of the day. 

So Rey and Ben got to scrub down every inch of the lab tables, plus scraping calcified gum off the undersides of every surface they could reach. Since Rey was tiny compared to Ben’s pre-collegiate bulk, she was armed with the old scraper and a dustbin under the tall tables.

Ben stubbornly refused to speak, even to the point of complicating the task. 

"Hey, Treebeard, can you pass me the Windex? This one's probably been here since 1939," she quipped from under the desk, her little hand poking out to receive.

He ignored her, pressing the rag harder against the tabletop as he scrubbed.

"_ Sooooloooooo _," she sing-songed, her fingers wiggling.

He froze, sighing loudly. He cast his eyes to the crucifix hanging at the front of the room.

"Dear God, it's me, Ben. I know I haven't been a perfect, righteous son, but why are you testing me?"

She prodded him in the shin. "Come on, you drama queen, pass the Windex."

"Quit poking me. Here," he snapped, shoving it over to her. "Now can you leave me alone?"

"Okay, okay, jeez," she said. "What's got your shorts in a twist today?"

He scowled and pressed harder against the pencil marks on the tabletop. No way in hell he was going to tell her about the weekend. He would rather not tell anyone, least of all this scrawny brat who got him into the situation in the first place.

"Nothing, just leave me alone."

"Fine."

The silence between them was only broken by the rhythmic rasping of the scraper against the desk. Rey was perfectly content to let him sulk. If there was one thing she knew about people and bad moods, it was that sooner or later, that bad mood would want to spread to the closest warm body it could find. It was just a matter of time before Ben Solo started talking. She just had to wait.

There was a loud crack above the table.

"Son of a _ BITCH _!"

Her head poked slowly out from under the desk like a cautious prairie dog.

"You okay there, champ?"

He was hunched forward, rubbing the back of his shaggy, dark head.

"Whaddaya think."

She snorted. "How'd you manage that?"

He gestured vaguely at one of the wooden cabinets above the desk. "How else?"

"Awww poor Benny, shall I go get Dr. Ackbar to kiss it better for you?"

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad if you hadn’t bashed it against a locker already!" He glowered at her.

“Get a thicker skull then,” she said flippantly, returning to her task under the table.

"You're so lucky I don't hit girls," he huffed, kicking the stool next to her to startle her.

She jumped, dropping her scraper with a clatter. It was second nature to curl into herself. She hated that it was second nature. 

“Thank you _ so _ much. I’m glad at least one person has such high standards,” she muttered, fiddling with the torn edge of her sweater. “Ain’t I fucking lucky.”

"You usually pick fights with bigger dudes? Ones who won't fight back? I thought scholarship students were brighter than that."

“Usually the other guy doesn’t share your philosophy about hitting girls. Sometimes they’ll even philosophize at you without warning or reason.”

She didn’t know why she said it. She shouldn’t have said it. If Ben told anyone, she’d probably be put back in the system. She’d lose her scholarship, her friends, the only chance she had to make something good out of her shitty life.

He stopped scrubbing for a long moment, and all she heard was a quiet "Oh."

She uncoiled slowly and kept scraping at the ancient gum above her.

He took a slow breath. "I'm sorry, do you want to talk about it?"

She scoffed and scraped harder. 

“You’re not sorry. You just feel like you have to say you’re sorry because you don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t want your pity. You don’t even know me.” 

It came out harsher than she had intended. Rey lowered her scraper to her lap with a loud sigh. 

“It’s...fine,” she said, softer this time. “You’re not obligated to be my therapist just because I offered to be yours last week. But...thanks. For offering.”

He hesitated. "Why did you offer, anyway? You attacked me and then...wanted to help me?"

She shrugged unseen. “Well, I know that I lash out because I feel scared and hurt. I figured...maybe you do the same thing. Maybe you just need to shout into the void and tell your secrets to a total stranger with no skin in the game.”

She poked her head out again from under the desk and looked up at him. 

“The offer still stands, by the way.”

He met her gaze.

"So were you more scared or hurt when you lashed out at me?"

She bit her lip. 

“Hurt. And then scared. Hurt because you don’t even know me and then you were talking shit about me. Scared because I didn’t know what you had started and how that might come back to bite me in the ass.”

Her eyes unfocused a bit and her voice turned pensive. 

“Ms. Kanata says that I react disproportionately to outside stimuli because I live in a high-risk situation. It’s common with kids like me.”

"Ms. Kanata said that, huh?" He tried not to remark how he was pretty sure Ms. Kanata didn't much like him, and the feeling was mutual, given that every time he spoke with her, she would call either Brother Luke or his mother and rat him out. 

Now was not the time to say that, of course. He resumed wiping the tabletop idly.

"Well, you're right. I don't know you or your situation that well, and I wasn't talking about you."

He straightened, his tone suddenly harder.

"Why were you listening in on me?"

“I honestly wasn’t, I was just passing by Brother Luke’s office as I was leaving Ms. Kanata’s. I only really caught a snippet of your conversation.”

She had the decency to look somewhat sheepish. 

“As you likely recall, I reacted disproportionately.”

"I had to ice my jaw on Friday, so yeah, I'd say so," he said flatly. "But why did you think I'd be talking about you?"

Her voice got very quiet then. 

“‘Who would want to be around a piece of human garbage like that, anyway,’” she mumbled.

He crossed his arms.

"Yeah...that wasn't about you."

“Yeah well, get left in a Walmart parking lot when you’re six and try thinking anything else about yourself.”

He jerked his head. "Jesus, really?"

The fossilized chunk of gum that Rey has been working on sprang free with a disconcerting clatter on the linoleum. 

“Yup.”

"Yeah, I thought that kind of thing only happens in bad Natalie Portman movies," he said, a half-hearted joke to mask the fact Ben genuinely did not know what to say.

“And then ‘what kind of kid has parents that would rather die than be with them,’” she continued, her voice small from under the table.

"Yeah, that wasn't about you at all," he muttered. He scooped up his rag sharply and headed to another lab table in the back corner.

"You're forgiven. It was a misunderstanding or whatever."

She watched him stride away and start to scrub aggressively at the old black-top desk. Over the last ten years in foster care, Rey had learned how to read people pretty well. She could see the tension in every line of his body, the way his knee kept knocking against the stool in front of him. He was an absolutely open book. 

And he was doing a shit job of hiding whatever he was trying to hide. 

She scooted forward a bit and wrapped her arms around the nearest table leg. 

“Offer still stands,” she said quietly. “I won’t tell anyone and I won’t judge you.”

He hesitated for a moment before resuming scrubbing.

"It's nothing. It's like you said; I'm a spoiled rich kid who doesn't have to work for anything. I'm fine."

“Bullshit.”

He sighed, his hand moving of its own accord across the table.

"I think I liked it better when you were shoving me into a locker."

She snorted. 

“Come on, you got my tragic backstory. At this point, you owe me yours.”

She drew her legs up until her giant sweater covered them to the tops of her feet. 

“Or, how about this: I won’t say anything. I’ll make myself little and invisible and you can just talk to the room like nobody’s here.”

She rested her chin on her knees. 

“But you shouldn’t keep it all bottled up. It leads to shoving upperclassmen into lockers.”

"That's a unique coping mechanism, I give you that, but I'm not the one who started the fight. I don't need to talk," he said stiffly.

She shrugged and popped another gum stalactite into the dustbin. 

“If you say so.”

He switched to the next table.

"It's like you said, you've only met me a couple of times, but you know exactly who I am. That's all you need to know."

She moved to a different table and started on a new crop. How many years’ worth of Resistance Academy biology students had been hiding their gum under here? She stayed silent and kept working.

A few moments later he slapped the rag down. 

"Done. I'm heading back to the other room."

“‘Kay,” she said. “Be there in a few minutes. These little buggers are really stuck up here.”

"Need help?"

“Oh my god, yes please.”

He wanted to go back to sitting in obligatory silence in the detention room under Dr. Ackbar's strict supervision, but he wouldn't deny Rey aid after she had tried so hard to be friendly, despite his stubborn coldness.

But she wanted him to give away what he was not prepared to share.

He took a seat beside her and held out his hand.

She passed him her scraper with a shy smile. 

“Watch your head,” she warned. “You _ really _ don’t want this shit getting in your hair.”

He snorted a laugh, but didn't meet her expression. 

He didn't want to admit some of this had been his from the previous year.

She propped herself up against the table leg and rummaged in her skirt pocket, withdrawing a threadbare pouch. She pulled a large deck of cards out of the pouch and started to shuffle them absentmindedly.

That sound again. _ Thwip thwip thwip. _He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"So you're some kind of card shark?"

She chuckled. 

“Sure, why not.”

With a grunt, he knocked off two pieces of caked-on gum.

"What's your game of choice?"

“Not that kind of cards.”

"Oh? What other kind is there?"

She fanned a few cards out in her hands. They were larger than a standard Bicycle deck and painted intricately. 

“They’re tarot cards,” she said.

"Tarot cards? Aren't those what fortune-tellers use?"

“Mmhm,” she said with a nod. “Although they did initially start as playing cards. But that was, like, the 15th century or something so no one really uses them to play anymore.”

"I thought witchcraft was highly frowned upon at this Jesuit institution."

"Sure, but I'm not a witch," she said with a coy smile.

He looked at her briefly before returning to his work.

"No comment."

She swatted at him before shuffling the cards back into the deck in her lap.

"So...what do you use them for?"

“Well ideally, they tell the future.” She smiled knowingly. “Usually, they tell the truth.”

"Well," he said, shoving the gum so hard he chipped the wood. "That's convenient."

She laughed then, full and squeaky. 

“Convenience has nothing to do with it.”

"Yeah? Then what does it do?"

“They offer...” She thought for a moment. “...insight.”

Rey looked him dead in the eyes then. 

“Tarot cards tell the truth, even when we can’t speak the truth to ourselves.”

He laughed dryly. "Sounds like bull."

She arched an eyebrow. 

“You want me to prove it to you?” she challenged playfully.

"I don't want anything from you," he said, slamming the paint scraper with far more energy than he had intended. "You don't get to shove me on Friday and pretend to be best pals on Monday. It doesn't work like that, sister."

She jumped a bit, clutching her cards closer to her chest. She looked hurt. 

“Fine,” she spat. 

She tucked the deck away quickly and rolled out from under the table. She stood abruptly and all he could see for a moment was her skinny legs and bruised knees. Then she bent down to get a look at him, her face pink and stony. 

“I was just trying to help.”

And then she stormed toward the door.

He thought about fighting her, calling to her and apologizing, but he knew if he did, it would be seen as weakness.

She had snooped on him. She hit him and embarrassed him in front of the entire school. His uncle had grounded him all weekend, taking away his phone and computer. It didn't matter that he now knew her better and she wanted to know more about him.

He didn't need any more friends. He just needed to get through the year without incident. And she was getting too far under his skin for his comfort.

He rose, strolling behind her to the detention hall.

Rey was small, but she moved fast. By the time he reached the door to the detention hall, she was already pulling her bag over her arm and making for the exit.

He considered calling out to her, trying to bridge any sort of connection, but clubs were meeting in the various classrooms, students lingering in the halls.

Now was not the time to be vulnerable or open.

So he let her go, pushing past him with a sharp shoulder. 

He grabbed his own bag and went to leave the room, but a gruff voice halted him.

"Mr. Solo, one more thing!" Dr. Ackbar called in his familiar low grumble. "Your hair is looking rather long. I understand you're a senior and you think the rules can be more relaxed, but you'll have another few days of detention next week of it's not taken care of!"

Ben grumbled a response before taking off, vowing to ignore Dr. Ackbar's demands.

However, Brother Luke was waiting for him in the hallway.

"Time to break out the old clippers then, huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask how a teenage boy would know the romantic drama "Where the Heart Is." He doesn't want to talk about it.


	3. The Hanged Man - Part 3

The 8 o'clock bell had just rang when Ben appeared in the hallway, bag slung lazily over his shoulder, hood of his black hoodie draw up. His height and unwavering gait made him intimidating to the point that several freshmen dove out of his way. 

But not Armie Hux.

"Where were you last night?" he demanded as Ben fiddled with his lock. "I tried to text you about the SGA budget."

Ben didn't reply. He popped his locker door open and paid Armie no mind.

"Hel-looooo? Benjamin Solo, are you there?"

He was aware of Armie, of course; without his phone, he couldn't receive texts about SGA nonsense any more than he could pop in earbuds and drown out the world.

But he needed a moment of peace. So he ignored him. He ignored everything.

Rose Tico peered around her locker door and Rey’s back and gave a low, ominous whistle. 

“Don’t look now, the Grim Reaper is upon us,” Rose whispered. 

Rey looked up with a “huh?” and followed her friend’s surreptitious finger toward Ben’s locker down the hall. He looked like he’d had a rough night. 

Not that she cared, why the hell should she care, he was a jerk with a sob story, boo fucking hoo. 

Rey’s expression hardened as she stuffed her English books into her bag and made an effort not to look at Ben’s hulking figure for too long. 

“When’s your lunch period again, Rosie?”

Rose didn’t answer. She, like many of the students in the hall, was too busy gawking at the proceedings happening across the way.

Hux had had enough. He had shoved Ben into his own locker.

"Pay attention, Solo!" he demanded, and when Ben finally turned to rebuke him, Hux hooked two fingers under his hood and pulled it back.

“Oh _ shit_,” said Rose. 

“Oh no,” mumbled Rey. 

It was bad.

The dress code for the Resistance Academy mandated that gentlemen not grow their hair to cover their ears or pass the collars of their shirts. This rule was strictly enforced with the underclassmen, many of whom sported near-identical bowl cuts to narrowly stay within these guidelines. Many juniors and seniors took liberties with these rules, which had resulted in Ben Solo's iconic dark mop that had skirted the rules successfully.

It appeared, however, that overnight he had been attacked by a rogue pair of scissors. 

The hair framing his face had been trimmed and the windswept waves that came just above his shoulders were gone, hacked away indifferently.

The worst damage, however, was the way in which his ears had been carved out of his mass of hair.

Large ears, now tipped with red.

Whatever air of indifferent cool Ben Solo had cultivated over his high school career was replaced by utter dorkiness, and it was as if blood was released in a corridor of sharks. The mockery was almost instantaneous; it was too late for Ben to replace his hood.

“Oh...my _ god_,” Rose giggled behind her hand. “Oh shit that is _ rough_.”

The cacophony of jeering teenagers echoed off the linoleum and metal, becoming a vortex of taunting laughter. Hux was doubled over in the ecstasy of total schadenfreude.

“Fucking hyenas,” Rey muttered under her breath. 

She slammed her locker door shut, the lock clicking back into place. 

“I’ll see you at lunch, Rose.”

“Hm?” Rose’s laugh-reddened face turned back to her. “Oh. Yeah, later, girl.”

Rey pushed through the crush of teenagers. Her path took her right past Ben and his red-headed Judas. She did her best not to catch his eye.

Ben just shoved his books into his locker with increased aggression, trying to stuff his head deeper in so no one could see the color brimming in his long face. He'd always been weird-looking, but he developed an easy confidence and hairstyle around the end of freshman year that hid it. He’d grown into himself over the last year, his face now proportionate to his features and his first uniform blazer now two sizes too small for his long arms and torso. But more than that, the hockey workouts under Coach Snoke had made him less lanky and more muscled. Even when he got the scar, he was passable to look at.

Now it was on display just how unfortunate he really was.

Hux stopped his guffawing when he spotted a new target.

"Oh look, Benny-boy, your girlfriend is here!" he shouted after Rey. "What does she think of your haircut?"

Rey froze mid-step and turned to face Ben. She looked him dead in the eye. 

“I’ve seen worse,” she said, loudly and clearly and straight to him. 

Then she turned on Hux. 

“You, for instance.”

She stepped closer to him and internally cheered when he took a step back. 

“Who cut your fucking hair, Hitler Youth, you look like a forty year old man.”

There was a chorus of "ooohs" and laughter as Hux's face reddened.

His jaw clenched, he retorted, "Good to see your little girlfriend is sticking up for you, Solo, since you're too gutless to do it yourself."

“Ooh someone’s feeling _ spicy _ this morning. Your mom put a little extra mayo on your sandwich today, VP?”

At that Ben snorted, but he still didn't engage. Hux sputtered.

"How dare—just because I HAVE a mother..."

Rey was in his face before he could continue. Her eyes were flinty and her voice was very low. 

“Finish. That. Sentence. I fucking dare you,” she growled.

Hux swallowed before speaking slowly. The bell sounded.

"Just because I have a mother who gives—"

"Enough," Ben said, slamming his locker door and standing suddenly. He finally turned to face Rey. There was gratitude in his eyes for the moment his gaze met hers, then he flicked his attention to Armitage.

"Don't waste your time with her," he scolded Hux sternly. "She's just trying to goad you into getting detention with her. Come on, that was the second bell. I'm going."

Rey let them pass and took a silent, albeit shaky, breath before booking it for the English wing. 

As she jogged across the breezeway past the library, she couldn't shake the look of quiet thanks that Ben had given her. Detention was going to be very interesting that afternoon.

By lunch, Ben's haircut was the talk of the school. Those who were brazen enough to carry their phones on their person had snapped photos, which were already circulating.

It was hard for other students not to mock Wonderboy when it was so easy to take glee in how his facade of cool had fallen.

Ben Solo, son of a famous alumnus Senator, hockey star, and student body president.

Ben Solo, always imposing in his trademark black hoodie.

Ben Solo, at least for today, just another dork.

He had ignited another fire of laughter during his cursory appearance in the cafeteria to buy a sandwich, but he disappeared to Brother Luke's office soon after.

He had no desire to _ see _ Luke, but an unyielding need to get away at any cost.

He was in such a rush to go in he didn't notice Rey sitting in the chair outside Ms. Kanata's office.

She barely glanced up from her hands in her lap, her fingers idly flipping a card with two large stars emblazoned on its face. The meaning rolled around in her mind. 

_ Two of Pentacles. Rapid change has become a norm in your life. Dealing with opposing forces is unavoidable. Resilience in the face of change is needed. _

And speaking of opposing forces...

"Thank you," she said quietly. Her voice bounced across the wetly shining linoleum toward him.

At the sound of another voice, he froze, his reverie broken.

When he turned and saw who it was, he was surprised to feel relief.

"Oh, hey. Uh, I guess I should be thanking you," he said, nervously scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, the sharp newly-cut hair strands prickling his fingers.

"You stopped me before I did something I would've regretted. Again."

She leaned her elbows on her knees and scrubbed her face with her hands, sighing loudly. 

"I can't keep pushing people into lockers when I get pissed off." She peered through her fingers. "Although Hux would've deserved it."

Ben smiled weakly. "Yeah, he really did. But thanks for sticking up for me."

He noticed the tarot cards in her hands again.

"Trusting in the heart of the cards, huh?"

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile lurking at the corner of her mouth.

"Better watch it. I'll send you straight to the Shadow Realm," she joked.

Then she sobered. 

"I don’t really know why I like them. They feel...almost alive? I don't know how to explain it." She looked down at her lap. "I guess it's just nice to know that there's something honest in my life. They're just pretty paper, but there's truth inside them. It's comforting to know that the cards won't lie to me."

She chuffed a little laugh. “Or maybe it’s just my weird hobby.”

"Yeah...yeah, I understand that," he said. "I guess I have...hockey, or whatever. Dunno." He shrugged. It was good for the aggression but he had no illusions that hockey offered any soft of spiritual satisfaction beyond just letting him be good at something. "Sounds nice."

"Yeah..."

The door to Ms. Kanata's office opened abruptly. Rey jumped, tucking her cards back into her pocket. 

"Miss Johnson, are you ready?" the tiny old counselor asked kindly.

Rey nodded and then turned back to Ben with a little half smile. As she walked into the office, Ms. Kanata eyed Ben through her massive round glasses. 

"Brother Luke is waiting for you, Mister Solo," she said. "Better not keep him waiting."

Ben sighed, nodded, then opened the door to his uncle's office, ready for another awkward meal spent discussing his behavior and future.

It was always bleak. Doesn’t matter how much station his parents had, the privileges they were afforded. He knew, as he’d always known in the dark pit of his heart: there was no future for him.

The advantage of a class like Water Sports was that is was an easy elective, a good way to burn some energy and fill a class period on a Friday morning.

The downside was that you had to get undressed and jump into a swimming pool first thing in the morning.

Ben had begun preparing for this; he slipped his bathing suit on under his uniform, and as soon as he was dismissed from homeroom, he’d trek over to the changing room and slip out of his slacks.

That bought him some extra time.

Without waiting for Mr. Fisto to show up, Ben had eased himself into the water. It was just warm enough today, like a bathtub that had sat for too long. He let himself drift onto his back, his hair floating up in a halo around his face, let his thoughts consume him.

It was the dream, the same one he’d been having for months. 

Ben was walking into the kitchen. He’d hear a noise, maybe a drill or a saw, and go into the garage. His dad was there, as usual, working on his latest bike. Since his dad started fixing motorcycles, that had always been the way: he’d always have two, one to keep and one to sell. Every time he sold off one, he’d buy another one, begin working on it, and then decide which he was going to keep once it was finished. 

He had just started teaching Ben before he died. He still had an unfinished bike, and Ben didn’t know nearly enough it complete it. The parts sat untouched for the better part of a year.

Ben knew this, but in the dream, he didn’t care. In the dream he just watched his dad work from the workbench.

In the dream, he laughed.

In the dream, he was home.

He’d always forget it was a dream. He’d wake to find himself on the twin bed shoved into the corner of Uncle Luke’s cluttered office, surrounded by artifacts from his travels and various religious memorabilia. 

The home he wanted was gone.

“Practicing your synchronized swimming, Solo?” Hux called to him. Ben blinked, remembering with little delight where he was. Righting himself, he swam toward the edge of the pool.

Mr. Fisto was busy taking attendance. Most of the other boys were ignoring him. But Johnson, the scholarship girl, was watching him curiously as he held onto the ladder, preparing to climb out.

“Ben, actually, stay where you are; we’re going to play Sharks and Minnows, and something tells me you'd be a great shark."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your skin is the same material as shark teeth,” Mr. Fisto joked. “Just hang in there. We’ll send the minnows in after you once I go over the rules.”  
  
Ben had played this game a number of times as a kid; it was tag, but with more diving. The only variation Mr. Fisto added was that he had to face the back wall and couldn’t turn to look or dive under until he heard the first minnow hit the water.   
  
Fine. Ben already knew it would be too easy. 

When everyone had lined up, he slid his goggles on and turned around.

“All minnows in!” he called, and after a moment of hesitation, he heard the bodies striking the water and felt the shockwaves of the swimmers.

He slipped below the surface. 

Those on the surface were easy pickings. He didn’t want them. He wanted the divers. The divers were savvy. The divers were always more of a challenge. 

This part of the pool was about nine feet deep. The space below Ben’s feet at the deepest parts of a pool felt so ominous when he was a child, but now it was well within reach. He liked the crush of water above him, of bodies suspended in the fluid around him. He dove down fearlessly, effortlessly tagging Houz and Wexley, among others, just blurs of skin and swimsuits that were easily caught beneath his fingers. Not bad for the first round. 

He needed to catch his breath. Maybe he’d get a few more stragglers above.

He began to surface, but felt a weight dragging him down, hands clinging to his shoulder and bicep.

He whipped his head around, thrashing in panic, when he spotted a red suit.

_ Johnson. _

Was she trying to kill him? Did she not know how to play the game?  
  
He thrashed again, trying to shake her loose, but her hands were wrapped around his arm tight. With the last of his strength he kicked to the surface, emerging with a desperate gasp. Rey surfaced a moment later beside him.

He was too busy trying to catch his breath or else he would have shouted at her, but all he managed between pants was “_HELL, Johnson_!”

He felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. She seemed to be struggling, too. Her eyes on him were wide and fearful.

She was clinging to the side of the pool, coughing and panting.

“I--I’m sorry…” she croaked weakly.

“What...what were you doing?” he panted, still treading water. He felt the eyes of the class on him. Mr. Fisto was coming near.

“I lost my g-goggles. I couldn’t see...” She flushed heavily, shame coloring her face.

“If you can’t swim that deep, then don’t try,” Ben snapped.

“You two okay?” Fisto asked, leaning in. 

Rey looked up at the teacher and nodded shakily, still keeping a death grip on the edge of the pool. 

“I lost my goggles,” she mumbled.

Then she turned back to Ben, narrowing her eyes. “Ben was going to help me get them back. Since I’m not a strong enough swimmer to go that deep.”  
  
Ben’s glare told an entirely different story, but Fisto never looked his way.   
  
“Well, sit this one out if you need to. We’ll have someone dive down and look for them later. Ben, when you’re ready, there’s still another feeding frenzy waiting.”

With one last dark look over his shoulder Ben darted back to the middle of the pool, his back turned to Rey and his classmates.   
  
“All minnows in.”   
  


Rey always smelled like chlorine on Fridays. No matter how much she showered after getting out of the pool, the tangy, almost salty, stench of chlorine clung to her like a shroud. She was just leaving the cafeteria and making her way down the hall to Ms. Kanata’s office. The path took her past the admin offices and the just-cracked door to Brother Luke’s office.

Raised voices filled the room and leaked out into the hallway. Without really meaning to, Rey slowed her pace. 

_ Don’t be nosy, _she chastised herself. But really, what was the harm? She could keep secrets. She wasn’t one to judge.

“Benjamin, you need to calm down.”  
  
“Why not? _ Who cares? _ ” Rey couldn’t miss Ben Solo’s familiar harsh baritone. “No one. Who would want to be around a piece of human garbage like that, anyway?”   
  
Her throat tightened and her cheeks flamed. At this point, she had stopped completely, angry and determined to hear the rest of his tirade.

“Ben,” Brother Luke began. “You know that’s not--”  
  
“Not what?” Ben snapped. “Not _ nice? _ I don’t care about nice. It’s completely true.”

Luke’s response, a plea towards rationality, probably, was too quiet to make it out of the room.

What right did this trust fund jackass have to say things like that? He didn’t know her. Sudden terror gripped her. Did he find out somehow about her situation? Was he telling Brother Luke? Who else had he told?

“No, no I’m not going to let this go. I’m not going to be calm. I mean, what kind of kid has parents that would rather die than be with them?”

Rey’s eyes stung involuntarily and she had to swallow in order to keep breathing, her stomach twisting painfully. She had given up on hating her parents a long time ago; they were deadbeats and ill and probably addicted, struggling to survive with a small mouth to feed. They probably shouldn’t have had her in the first place. She had come to accept this. She knew that this shouldn’t affect her so sharply. But this hurt. This really hurt. 

“This is _ ENOUGH. _ You know that’s not true.”   
  
“Do I?” Ben laughed bitterly. “Because I don’t think we’d be having this conversation if it wasn’t. Some people are just that unlovable.”

She couldn’t keep listening to this. With a shaking, burning little sob, she took off down the hallway. As she ran, she let her sorrow turn bitter. Ben Solo wasn’t going to get away with talking about her like that. He was an asshole, and he needed to come down a few pegs off his high horse.

She was late to her appointment with Ms. Kanata, but she didn’t care. While the tiny guidance counsellor talked about self-worth and the importance of mental health, Rey was plotting. 

He wasn’t going to get away with it. She was tougher than that.

  
  


_ Bad day, kid? _   
  
_ What gave you that impression? _   
_   
You look rough._

_ Someone tried to drown me in swimming. _   
_   
You’re not serious._

_ I am. I don’t think it was intentional, but I almost ran out of air. So yeah, it’s been a good one. _

_ Do you have good ones anymore? _   
  
_ What’s that supposed to mean? _   
  
_ You’re dour, Ben. You’re always dour. _   
  
_ Do you expect me to be captain sunshine or something? _   
_   
No, but…_

_ But what? _   
  
_ Ben… _   
  
_ I’m a mess. I’m an angry, moody mess and you’re sick of dealing with me. _   
_   
I never said that. _

_ You don’t have to. You’re so sick of me. _

_ Ben, I’m not. But this behavior...it’s not like you. I’m worried. _

_ Ha! That’s a good one. _

_ I am. You seem like you’re becoming more self-destructive-- _

_ Is it because of the scar? _

_ What? No. Well. I mean, that’s part of it-- _

_ “Oh look at crazy Ben. He’s jumping into rivers trying to kill himself. So dark. Such depression. Wow.” _

_ Ben. _

_ Let it go. I’m fine. I’m just a piece of trash, ready to be discarded again. _

_ Ben. _

_ Mom’s always working, Dad’s gone. Now I’m being shuffled around onto you. I’m a shitty hot potato in human skin. _

_ Ben, you shouldn’t say things like that. _

_ Why? Who cares? No one. Who would want to be around a piece of human garbage like that, anyway? _

_ Ben, you know that’s not-- _   
_   
Not what? Not nice? I don’t care about nice. It’s completely true._

_ Calm down, Ben. You have to let this go. You’re bottling up all this anger and it’s controlling you. You can’t keep holding onto the bitterness and self-loathing… _

_ No, no I’m not going to let this go. I’m not going to be calm. I mean, what kind of kid has parents that would rather die than be with them? _

_ This is ENOUGH. You know that’s not true. _   
  
_ Do I? Because I don’t think we’d be having this conversation if it wasn’t. Some people are just that unlovable. _

_ Unlovable is not your problem. Your mother loves you, I love you, and your father loved you so much-- _

_ Don’t talk about my dad like that. _

_ Can’t I be hurt, too? Can’t I mourn my best friend? You’re not the only one who hurts, Ben. You’ve just become so caustic and jaded you’re forcing everyone close to you away. _

_ There is no one close to me. No one wanted to be close to me before. I’m disposable. _

_ Get out of my office. We’re not doing this today. _

_ You’re the one who wanted-- _

_ We’re done Ben. We’ll talk you through an attitude adjustment later. I don’t have time for another one of your episodes. _

_ Fine. _

_ I’ll see you after school. _

The haze of his argument with Uncle Luke hung over Ben’s head all day. He felt as if he were lost, adrift through his afternoon classes. 

He just wanted to survive through to the weekend. Have peace and quiet.

But then he felt hands bunching up in his shirt and shoving him against his locker, and the yelling started anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just not Catholic school without bad haircuts.


	4. The Hanged Man - Part 4

Frau Holdo was on detention duty again that afternoon. Rey was already sitting in the far back corner when Ben came in. Her hands were in her lap, fiddling with the edges of her sweater sleeves. She flicked a look up at him as he entered, but her expression didn't change. She looked tired.

"Guten Nachmittag, Frau Holdo," Ben said. Instead of taking the seat furthest from Rey at the front of the room, he took a seat near the center aisle. He plopped his bookbag on the ground, drew up his hood, and slumped in his seat. 

When he heard Frau Holdo busily tapping on her keyboard, he slowly twisted to hazard a glance at Rey.

Her arms were crossed on the top of the desk, her chin balanced on them. She had her eyes trained on the front of the room.

Ben tried to catch her attention. Waving didn't work. He had to sit stiffly or else risk Holdo's wrath. 

A few moments later, a crumpled ball of paper landed next to Rey's elbow.

She glanced at it dazedly, then at Ben (conveniently staring ahead, aloof), then back to the paper. She sat up, sneaking the note into the opening of her desk. She pried it open quietly.

In Ben's cursive scrawl, he had written simply " _ You okay? _ "

A few minutes later, the paper ball landed neatly on the desk in front of him. Her reply slanted messily beneath his message.

" _ Eh. Tired mostly. Long day. You? _ "

As he flattened out the paper and prepared to write a reply, he heard Frau Holdo call out, "Herr Solo, was hast du da?"

He looked back at her and she was holding out a hand and staring directly at him. 

"Zieg mir." Show me.

Rising slowly, he walked to the back of the room, shooting Rey an apologetic glance as he passed.

Holdo took the paper, unfolded it and read it.

Rey's head hit the desk quietly and her arms came up to cover her head.

Ben's heart was racing as the German teacher scanned the paper for a moment, then her lips curled into a small smile.

"Stay here," she commanded Ben, then turned back to her computer. A moment later the printer started running and she scooped up a stack of papers. 

"I have a task for you. Miss Johnson, I'll need you for this too," she said.

Rey was up and out of her seat like a shot. 

"Yes, ma'am," she said quickly, making her way to the front of the classroom.

As she passed Ben, she glanced at him with a quizzical expression.

Frau Holdo handed Rey the stack of papers. "I need you both to take down the German Club's Oktoberfest fliers and put these out for the language department open house. It's easy if you just swap them, and there should be a few in each hallway, stairwell, and commons. Make sure you stop by the library, too. Should take you a bit."

She handed Ben a roll of painter's tape. "Just don't put them on the walls. Boards or metal posts only. Na klar?"

Rey nodded, shuffling the papers in her hands.

Ben sighed in relief, offered Frau Holdo a quick "Danke," and hurried out of the room before she could change her mind. 

When they were far enough away, he turned to Rey, beaming. "Well, that was lucky. I thought she was going to give us another week."

She smiled shyly and flicked a glance up at him. "Holdo's cool. She lets me hang out in her classroom during my free period on Wednesdays."

"Try having her for German. She's got that good old Deutsch sense of humor," he muttered.

"Oh come on, how bad can she be? Her hair's freaking purple." Her smile got wider. "You just know she was a total wild child back in the day. She seems like the activism, burn your bra kind of person."

"Back in the day, sure, but you should see her quizzes," he said, then halted. "We should start looking for the signs."

"There were a bunch on the freshman locker pods in the art wing. We can start there and work our way back?"

"Sounds like a plan."

They wandered through the hallways, matching dingy brown oxfords squeaking on the hard, shining floors. The school was completely empty at that point, with any after school kids or extracurriculars happening elsewhere in the complex. The two detainees were quiet for a long while, falling into a rhythm of pulling signs and putting up new ones. Rey couldn't rightly say that she hated it. The silence between them was companionable, and she had no idea how it had gotten to that point.

After finishing the history hallway, Ben halted Rey. 

"I think we've earned a break, wouldn't you?"

She looked around for any straggling teachers. 

“Won’t we get in trouble?”

"Unless we're wearing giant signs that say 'We're supposed to be in detention,' I don't think anyone really notices us," Ben said, sinking to sit, his back against the lockers.

She shuffled her feet, looked around a few more times, and decided to chance it. She slipped down against the lockers a few feet down the wall from him.

"So, bad day?” he asked, rolling his face to look at her.

She blew out a long breath. 

"Probably bombed my history quiz this morning, Kanata wanted to get heavy, deep, and real about my abandonment issues, and your buddy Armie and his little cronies were pestering me all day."

She pulled her sweater over her folded knees, cocooning herself in dingy gray wool.

"And to top it all off, Rose invited me to rehearsal, but I couldn’t go because I'm here. And now I don’t know if I’ll even be allowed to do the show."

"Rehearsal? You’re in the play?" he asked.

"Musical, and no, not exactly. I can’t act for shit. But the tech side is right up my alley. I want to go into electrical engineering. So I thought it was at least worth a try, and Rose was going to teach me the light board. Plus, my friends are pretty much all theater geeks."

He laughed. "That I did know. What's the play?"

" _ Musical _ ,” she corrected. “It’s ‘Beauty and the Beast’. And how did you know who my friends are?"

"I know things," he said mysteriously, leaning his back against the locker and shutting his eyes. After a moment, he opened them and looked at her.

"Your buddy Poe is also the Sports Association rep for the SGA. I see him hanging around you a bunch."

"Ah, right," she said. She hazarded a glance back at him. 

"Why did you call Hux off this morning? Aren't you guys supposed to be friends?"

"Yes, we are supposed to be," he said, closing his eyes again. "We don't see eye to eye on basically anything, though. I think he latched onto me because I came from a powerful family, was another rich boy, whatever. That stuff never really mattered to me, but it's the only semblance of a personality he has. And I didn't know how to make friends when I started here, so we kind of stuck with each other."

He shrugged. "I think he either hates me less than everyone else or more than everyone else and wants to keep an eye on me."

"The basis to any lasting friendship: mutual disgust and loathing," she snickered.

"We're on our way to being besties," he said, smiling at his own joke.

She laughed. "Yeah, by your standards, we should be braiding each other's hair and talking about what boys we think are cute."

Ben flopped down on his back suddenly, looking up at her. 

"You know who I think is dreamy?" he said in a high-pitched falsetto, a mockery of his feminine classmates. "That Ben Solo. He's  _ such  _ a hunk."

"What a bad boy! And have you seen his luscious hair? Soooo hot," she giggled.

She caught his grimace and gave him a sympathetic look.

"Okay, tell me honestly, who did that to you?"

He groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Brother Luke."

She looked horrified. “He’s allowed to do that?”

"Of course he is," Ben snorted. "He's my uncle."

"Seriously? How did I not know that?"

He shrugged. "Different last names. Not really something we advertise, so no one gets the idea that I only got where I am because my uncle's the head honcho."

He looked at her. "Like you needed another reason to think I was born with a silver spoon up my ass, right?"

"I doubt anybody would be crying nepotism once they saw the state of your head."

She was quiet for a while. "And the silver spoon's supposed to go in the other end. You're terrible at being a rich kid."

He barked a laugh at that. "And you're terrible at hating me."

He smiled lazily at her. "Thanks for sticking up for me today. I dunno what it cost you, what Hux and his little enforcers did, but...it meant a lot. Really."

She returned the smile shyly and rested her chin on her knees. 

"Anytime. Really." 

Then she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “They were just waving safety scissors at me, saying I was due for a trim myself.” Her smile turned into a grin, cat-like and toothy. “But, like, who threatens someone with  _ safety  _ scissors? It completely detracts from the overall menace. They’re idiots.”

She chuckled, letting the sound trail off into a sigh, and picked at a piece of lint on her sleeve. 

"By the way, I'm sorry about the headbutt. And the lockers. I shouldn't have lost it like that."

“Not gonna pretend I wasn’t pissed at you for it, but now…” he shrugged. “It’s alright. It’s just detention.”

He looked at her intently, searching her closed-off expression for any way in.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly. "I know what it's like to be that angry. It doesn't come from nowhere."

She curled tighter into herself, protecting the soft parts of her belly, the battered heart that lay inside. She rolled her sleeves up. The bruises on them were yellowing, but unmistakable. Fingerprints from someone grabbing her arm too tightly. 

“I’m angry because...” She took a deep breath. “...because this should not be my life. I never chose this. My parents dumped me in a Walmart parking lot, and I don’t know what I did to make them do that. I got put in foster care, got shuttled all over the place because no one could handle me for longer than a few months. Tried to get adopted, but nobody wants a 12-year-old with anxiety and abandonment issues. Too messy, too clingy. Too much trouble for what I’m really worth.”

She sniffed matter-of-factly. 

“I’m angry because if I’m anything less than angry, I’ll get hurt again.”

She turned to look at him. 

“What are you angry about, Ben?” she murmured.

He blinked at her, brown eyes wide.

"Right now? Knowing that someone did that to you. That makes me real angry."

She shrugged helplessly.

“But what can you do about it?” The look she gave him was heavy, full of old grief. “The damage has already been done.”

She unfolded a bit and turned to face him. 

“Thank you, anyway. Thank you for getting mad for me. That...actually means a lot.”

She smiled weakly.

"I wish..." He thought of the bruises on her arms, the way he had grabbed her last week. These bruises were too big to be made by him. He shuddered. "I wish I could undo it, but I guess that's impossible."

"Yeah." Her eyes were vacant, far away as she nodded slowly. "Pretty impossible."

She scooted a bit closer.

"You didn't answer my question, though," she said gently. "Why are  _ you _ so angry?"

"I'm..." he hesitated. "Me."

She raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything. He sighed and sat up.

"Let's ask your cards."

“You want me to read for you?”

"Can you see me in them?"

She removed her deck gingerly from her pocket and set it facedown on the floor between them. With a well-practiced movement, she fanned the deck out in an elegant crescent. The eyes painted on the backs of the cards stared solemnly up at them. 

“Put your hand out, like this,” she instructed quietly. She stretched her fingers out over the cards, palm facing down, and hovered her hand just above them. 

“Move slowly across the deck until you feel something, then stop and pick that card.” She swept her hand carefully over them in demonstration.

"Feel something? Like what?" he asked, stretched out his hand carefully.

“Like...a cold spot in the center of your palm. Or a spark. For me it always feels like a warm candle flame,” she said patiently.

He carefully ran his hand slowly across the deck. He felt a small tingle in his palm. An itch, really, but it was enough. 

"There," he said, holding his hand still.

Rey smiled. “Good. Pull it, but don’t flip it over yet.”

He tugged at it and held it.

"Okay, now what?"

“Pick two more.”

He skated his hand along the deck again, feeling the surging of blood under his fingers, causing him to pause and pick them up. He handed the cards to Rey.

"How's this?"

She nodded, pleased. “Alright, then. Let’s get started.”

She laid the cards out facedown in a row of three. 

“So these three cards signify your past,” she pointed to the first card, “your present,” pointing to the center card, “and your future.” Her fingers lingered delicately on the third card. 

He nodded, staring intently at her hands.

She flipped each card over. 

The Hanged Man. The Tower. The Two of Cups. 

She looked over each of them with a critical eye. Then gentle understanding crossed her face. She traced the shape of the Hanged Man’s crossed legs with the tip of her finger. 

“The Hanged Man speaks of sacrifice. Almost...martyrdom.”

She tapped his face. “But see how calm he looks? He wanted this death. He’s at peace with it.” 

Her eyes flicked up to watch Ben.

He stared at it intensely. "I don't know about that. I'm no martyr."

“Could it be someone else in your life?”

Ben sat silently for a moment, pursing and biting his lips. "Maybe. Yeah."

“What do you see in it?”

His voice was almost inaudible. "My dad."

She waited quietly to see if he would continue.

"He...didn't tell me he was sick. Lung cancer. He had fought it once before. He didn't want to go through chemo again. He wanted to live his life on his own terms." Ben stared at his hands.

"He didn't care what that meant to me. Just told me one day and the next he was gone. I didn’t think about why he had retired, why he was spending so much time with me. I just thought I had my dad with me while my mom was away. You don’t want to think your parents are trying to trick you so you won’t notice when your dad dies but..."

She wanted to reach out to him, to squeeze his hand and tell him it was okay. But she knew instinctively that it  _ wasn’t _ okay and he wasn’t okay. She didn’t want to hurt him again, a thought that surprised her in its abruptness.

"It's fine," Ben said quietly. "It's what he wanted."

She nodded slowly. “Do you want to keep going?” she asked.

"Yes," he said quickly. "Yes, I want to."

“Okay.”

She tapped the center card lightly with her finger. 

“The Tower. Traditionally...” She looked warily up at him. “Traditionally it signifies a foundational breakdown. A disaster or major destruction...”

She took a deep breath; she could practically feel the tension rolling off of him, humming like a live wire. 

“In this position, and coupled with your interpretation of the Hanged Man, it points toward upheaval. Especially at home.”

"My family’s never been normal," he muttered. "But sure. 'Upheaval' is a gentle word for it."

He tried not to think too hard about the cards he’d picked. It was all chance. It wasn't real. But it felt too prescient. It unnerved him.

“Well, what about the not gentle word for it?”

He sat quietly for a moment.

"'Dumped on my uncle because I'm too much of a burden for my mom and too unstable to be left alone.' Wait, that's more than one word."

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest. He wasn’t all that different from her. Little better than a piece of luggage shuttled back and forth with no choice as to its destination. 

“The great thing about tarot cards,” she began slowly, “is that there are always two ways to look at them.”

She pointed to the lightning striking the tower and its crumbling stones. 

“There is destruction here, yes. The whole structure is brought down to the very foundation.” 

She looked up at him to make sure he was following her logic. 

“But that’s just part of the story.” She pointed to the ground at the tower’s base. “The old structure is gone, but it’s left room to rebuild. To make the next one better. It’s destruction, but also a potential for rebirth and growth.” 

Her face was determined as she turned it up to him.

He looked at the foundation of the tower.

"That's good, I guess. Doesn’t mean much right now when I don’t even know what’s happening in the next few months, much less the next few years. I just wish I knew what was next."

She picked up the final card. "That's where this one comes in."

A pair of snakes wove their way out of two chalices and intertwined with each other.

"Two of Cups. It speaks to a partnership. Of mutual respect and care. Balance between two forces, equals yet opposites. And in conjunction with the last two cards, it means..."

She offered him the card, catching his eye as she did.

"You're gonna feel like you're all alone in the universe, but you're not..."

He stared at her for a moment. A strange sort of relief washing through him.

He knew it was fake, a coincidence. But he wanted to believe it was real. God, he  _ needed _ it to be. Needed real friends, not Hux or the Knights. Needed to be emotional on his terms, and not when his uncle demanded he express himself.

He needed someone to meet him where he was, to make him feel wanted.

He needed to be needed, too.

"Oh yeah?" A small smile quirked up the corner of his mouth. "And why not?"

She handed him the card.

"Because it's the truth," she said sincerely, simply. "Because you're not alone."

He took it and held it.

Two cups. Two snakes. And two hands, one on either end of the card.

He gazed across the card at Rey. For as vicious as she'd been the previous week, she was calm now. Comforting.

He was still afraid of telling her too much, but after all she'd confided in him...

"Neither are you."

Rey felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She smiled.

Inexplicably, and against all evidence to the contrary, she found that she couldn't hate this sad boy in front of her, clinging to her tarot card like it was a lifeline. 

Ben Solo had a heart. And it was kind.

After a moment, he laughed. "You know, I was hoping for some info about college or who to take to prom or whatever but this...this works too."

She chuckled. "Sorry, ask again later."

"Well, I think I have enough answers for now. Do you?"

"I think so." She took the card back from him, shuffled the rest back into her deck with the practiced ease of a Vegas dealer, and slipped the deck into her uniform skirt's pocket.

She hopped to her feet and offered him a hand up. "Come on, there’s probably enough germs on that floor to fuel the science lab for a year."

He took it, surprised by the strength of her slender arms as she lifted him to his feet.

His hand was enormous and warm, studded with calluses from many seasons of hockey. She dropped it quickly, still unsure of where they stood.

"Good grief, do they sprinkle your morning porridge with MiracleGro at the monastery? You're a high school senior, not an Ent."

The joke was dumb, but she had to fill the sudden quiet with something.

"You...really like Tolkien, huh?"

Ben tried to keep down the flush he knew was going to crawl up his neck. He was very aware of his size, his strange height, and he was happier when others didn't draw attention to it too.

"Ha, yeah, a bit," she said with a reedy laugh. "I like the whole 'little guy defeats the big bad' story. Feels apropos to my general experience."

She grabbed the leftover papers from their forgotten stack on the floor and made for the main hallway. "Come on, we've got to get back."

"So you're a hobbit in this scenario?" he asked, trailing behind her.

“I generally assume that I’m a hobbit in most scenarios,” she said casually.

"You have hairy feet and crave the routine of the Shire?"

“I decline to comment on my feet, thanks all the same.”

Ben started whistling "Concerning Hobbits" as they rounded the hallway towards the detention room. 

He didn't know what to do about the cards. He couldn’t even be sure he meant what he had said to the girl about being alone, or, whether friendship was a realistic or desirable option for either of them. At the moment, however, he felt lighter than he had in weeks, maybe even months

The lights were off inside.

Standing in front of the door was Brother Luke.

The lightness in his heart disappeared.

Rey’s smile slid off her face and she froze in her tracks. The remaining papers crinkled in her arms.

"Good afternoon, Brother Luke," Ben said mechanically, his shoulders slumping, his eyes suddenly fixed on the floor. The cockiness with which he usually carried himself melted into shameful piety. Rey was stunned by his transformation as much as Luke’s sudden presence.

"You two know detention ended ten minutes ago?" Luke said, arms folded over his chest. "Frau Holdo had to leave and couldn't find either of you. Just because a faculty member sends you on an errand doesn’t mean you can sneak around and shirk your punishment"

“I...we—um...” Rey stuttered, flashes of unforeseen consequences blazing in her mind. They were going to take her scholarship away, they were going to call Unkar, she was going to get kicked out of school. Too much trouble for what she’s worth, that’s what Unkar had always said. Too much trouble.

"It's my fault," Ben said, gaze snapping up to his uncle. “We were told to swap the German Club signs. I wanted to wander a bit after. We lost track of time."

Brother Luke's face was stern, but not unforgiving.

She let out a shaky breath and glanced warily at Brother Luke with a nervous smile and an agreeing nod.

“Rey had no idea. She just did what I told her to.”

"Then it sounds like we need to separate you two from now on since you can't seem to stop getting each other in trouble," he said. "Mr. Solo, you'll be in the detention room. Miss Johnson, you’ll serve detention in my office."

He paused, then looked at Ben.

"I'm very disappointed, Mr. Solo. This isn't like you."

“Sir, with all due respect, how is walking around getting into trouble?” she blurted out. 

Well, in for a penny...

“We weren’t doing anything wrong, we were just talking.”

Ben elbowed her.

"Miss Johnson, you both knew you had an assignment to complete before returning to the detention hall. Mr. Solo is a senior and a member of the student government. He should know the importance of his conduct and should be modeling good behavior for an underclassman like yourself, rather than cutting out to go for a stroll."

“It was just a walk!”

Ben stepped in front of her. 

"You're right, Brother Luke. I wasn't thinking. It won't happen again. I accept any punishment for our behavior."

The rote  _ mea culpas _ flowed easily. He’d gotten far too practiced at them. He wasn't going to let Rey talk the fall for this, even though she seemed hellbent on getting herself in trouble anyway.

She watched Ben’s back with a mix of wonder and worry on her face. 

He was...protecting her. Why? After all the trouble she had caused him, why was he defending her to Brother Luke? He had no reason to…

Brother Luke tilted his head to meet his nephew's gaze.

"We'll discuss this later, Benjamin," he whispered harshly.

He turned back to Rey.

"Ben, grab your bag. Rey, do you have a ride home?"

“I’ll get the bus,” she said quietly. “There’s a stop near the house.”

She didn’t mention that by “near,” she meant a half-mile walk.

Brother Luke handed Rey her bag. "Have a good evening, Ms. Johnson." Ben didn't look at her but instead fiddled with the straps of his own bag.

“Good night, sir.”

She glanced briefly at her maybe-friend. 

“I’ll see you around, Ben,” she said quietly.

He flicked his eyes up to her, peering up under his hood.

"Yeah, see ya."

Brother Luke and Ben watched her go, lingering outside the classroom door.   
“Hey, Rey!” Ben called abruptly.

She turned and looked back at him, her expression cautious. 

“Yeah?”

"Get to rehearsal. You might still have a shot if they're running behind. You want this. You should go for it."

Rey’s face transformed with her smile. She beamed like the sun. 

“I will.” She turned back again toward the auditorium, breaking into a jog. 

“Thank you!” she called over her shoulder.

Luke turned to him. “What are you up to, kid?”

Ben shrugged. "You wanted me to get along with her, didn't you?"

He watched the silhouette of her slim figure taper off down the hallway, her old book bag bouncing against her back. It struck him as an oddly hopeful sight.

"I assumed you two were off finishing what you started on Friday," the headmaster murmured. 

Ben glared at him. "It's like you don't even know me."

Ben stood over the sink, leaning as close as he could to the mirror. Clumps of black hair dotted the white porcelain surface.

_ Snip snip snip. _

It was the only picture he could find, but since he couldn’t check his computer, the small card would have to work as a reference.

Carefully, he opened the medicine cabinet so he could angle the mirror to see the back of his head.

_ Snip. Snip. _

This was the shortest his hair had been since sophomore year, but now that he’d been able to shape it a bit, it wasn’t bad. Definitely not his style, but it would work until he could grow it back out again. 

He looked back at the funeral card. It was a picture his mom had taken on their vacation to Ireland. Han Solo was leaning against a classic car, laughing at how Ben saying he was going to drive it next. 

_ Snip _ .

The moment frozen in time, Han’s hair streaked with grey but flawlessly styled as always.

Ben was sick of this damn picture, but it was the only recent photo Uncle Luke had that could be used as a reference to salvage Ben’s hair.

Luke knocked on the bathroom door. 

“You almost done in there?”

Ben threw open the door and glared at the old man.

“All done.”  Luke’s jaw dipped.

“Ben,” he said. “You look…”

Ben watched him, and then Luke met his stare.

The sentence didn’t need to be finished.

_ Just like your dad. _

“I’ll sweep it up when you’re done.” 

Ben charged past his uncle and into his temporary bedroom, pulling the door shut sharply behind him.

He didn’t want to hear it. He already knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frau Holdo tore down the Berlin Wall with her bare hands; no wonder she has no patience for your adolescent bullshit, Ben

**Author's Note:**

> Em and I are major proponents of writing what you know, so in that spirit, here's an AU inspired by the nightmarish hellscape we survived as teenagers, rehashed for your entertainment. 
> 
> Enjoy!


End file.
